The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1887-09-07

inn in the nearest market town before
proceeding to his destination, where,
the lawyer had informed him, he would
find all things in readiness to receive
him for his lonely vigil, if vigil it was
to be. The inn was full of farmers of
the neighborhood come in to the market,
and after much discourse on grain and
turnips the conversation, Mr. Jenifer
found--he being of course unknown
turned on the death of Mr.. Dacre.
" They do say" said one red-faced,
gray whiskered man of substantial APP
pearance; "they do say that the ghost
has begun to walk again since the
squirrels DEATH"
" What ghost?" said younger man,
with an incredulous laugh; +" / never
heard of ghost at Waterdell."
"No, you mayn't," said the first man
"but I've heard tell from my father,
times upon times, that before Squire
Dacre come here there were power of
queer things seen and heard at Water
dell, and they say that since he's dead
they be come back"
WThey say who says?" asked a
thin, weasel-faced farmer.
"Well, my man Marvel, for one. He
went across by the spinney last night,
where he has been almost every even
ing these thirty year, and he swears
that he saw some one walking up and
down the long path and heard some
awful noises"
"Ah?" said the thin man, with a
grunt, Marvel always were liar"
L" Liar or no liar" said the fat farmer,
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ghost himself sixty years ago. Often
and often he has told me of it, and 1
believe the old Squire knew of it too,
for he never laughed or scoffed as some
fools do with significant sniff when
folks talked of ghosts"
And so the talk drifted on to other
matters, and Mr.. Jenifer was left TO
contemplate another element of alb
surdity introduced into his well-arranged
commonplace existence, and felt quite
angry at the thought that he of all men
should, by the irony of fate, be brought
into a ghost story. But as he never
had believed in ghosts he did not mean
to begin now, and after inquiring his
way to Waterdell Hall he found that he
must start at once if he wished to reach
there before nightfal. 1t was some
what dull walk, which led him at last
along a narrow road ending in an alb
rupt descent. The high hedges on
either side had lost their summer beauty
without yet gaining the glory of au-
tumn; the few rose-bushes were sickly-
looking and withered and frosted with
a whitish blight and their leaves hung
shivering on the twigs, while in the
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already rising. The road turned sharply
to the right, and then Waterdell Hall
lay before its future owner.
To cheerful eye it might have
seemed nesting in a bowery of green
cry; but Jenifer, out of tune with
things in general and tired with his
walk, saw in its withdrawal from the
high road guilty seclusion from OBJ
servation. Four tall Wellingtonias
rose dark and solemn above the little
wicket gate and cast a gloom over
the garden patch, in which some late
geraniums and petunias only served by
their touches of brilliant color to accen-
tuate the general melancholy. The house
itself, instead of boldly looking forth
on the passers-by turned its face away
from the road and had no prospect but
the little bit of garden and the four
sentinel trees.
The door stood open and Mr.. Jenifer
entered narrow passage, where no
welcoming footsteps come to greet his
own. Only Virginian creeper torn by
the wind tapped on the porch; other
wise all was still. Mr.. Jenifer looked
around him for moment and then
went through the silent house to the
chief sitting-room. 1t was neither
large nor high, but it had the individual
charm which only age and years of oc-
cupation can give. The old-fashioned
mantel reached, with its dark, rich
carvings, to the ceiling, across which
was a massive oaken beam, nearly
black with age; the fireplace, with its
| glazing logs, gave out cheerful glim-
mer, reflected in the small quarries of
the window opposite, over which hung
a carved scroll, whose inscription there
was not light enough to read. Mr..
Jenifer breathed sigh of relief at the
comfortable appearance here, in con-
trast to the depressing aspect of
the rest of the house; but in
stead of settling himself Gas he felt
tempted to do) by the fire, he again went
out to look over the surrounding prop
erty. Behind the ground rose abruptly,
and was bounded by closely growing
coppice, through which a narrow path
seemed to strike in the direction of the
village. The parson climbed the hill ,
leaving the coppice on his left, and =,
standing on the highest portion of the
meadow, looked across the low hedge
at the last pageant of the sunset.
Some elm trees were silhouetted against
the sky, athwart which lay bars of
rosy flame, tender and evanescent.
One moment the dying light leaped up
brighter and throbbed through all the
burning heaven and then suddenly
it died away and the day was not.
Jenifer turned and looked at the hail.
Already it seemed to be losing itself in
the darkness which gathered round it.,
hiding in the recesses of the gables,
drawing curtains of mist over the
twisted chimneys. The silence, entire
and absolute, struck almost with oppres-
sion on the mind of this man accustomed
to city noises; but even as he thought
to himself " How still it all is" there
sounded in the coppice close behind him
along, sobbing, moaning cry, which rose
and fell, and rose again, and then ceased.
Clement Jenifer was not a particu-
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